


dreaming of caramel (and longing for you)

by Pink Panda (Ejacyeolation)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Ballet, Eventual Smut, M/M, Romance, Smut, Victor plays the piano, Yuuri is a ballet dancer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9149800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejacyeolation/pseuds/Pink%20Panda
Summary: On his good days, he tells himself that he’s good at what he’s doing. On his bad days, he reminds himself that good doesn’t stand a chance against the best.Ballet AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lightly inspired by the Black Swan movie and the Swan Lake ballet.   
> Title is taken from Suzanne Vega's song called Caramel.

He hears the gossip, hears that the company wants to open the season with something new and refreshing. When the first words about a Swan Lake production reach him, he briefly considers auditioning for one of the male lead roles. He smiles at how the females of the company are buzzing with excitement all week round, chattering about the roles they wish to take on.

The tides turn, however, when they hear that a gender-reversed rendition of the play is what the higher-ups are aiming at. As surprising as it is for him, it’s not nearly as surprising as the suggestions that he gets from his family.

They tell him to audition for the role, to grab the opportunity before someone else takes it away from him. They tell him it’s his chance to finally prove himself, to show the company that he’s worthy of his own title and his own show. They tell him he can do it, that if anyone could ever portray a character so complex, it would be him.

They don’t tell him that it’s going to break his soul as much as it breaks the skin on his feet, but he already feels it. He feels it with every spin and with every raise of his arms, both his body and mind heavy from exhaustion and over-use. When the auditions come up and he hears the whispers and feels the sly gazes directed at him, he feels his resolve crack. He realizes how no one ever told him about the soul-crushing and mind-numbing sense of self-doubt he’d feel if he got into a competition with the other dancers, but he thinks he should have known.

After all, no one ever said ballet would be easy, so he trudges on. Once the songs to be used for the auditions are revealed, he gets to work. He almost immediately falls in love with the piece for the white swan, a breath of fresh air to change things up from how Swan Lake is usually presented. Encouraged, he practices nonstop, making sure that every turn and every step is ingrained into his limbs, memorizing the piece with his muscles instead of just his mind.

On the day of his audition, he pours every minute into warming up, knowing that all of his hard work would go to waste if he ends up cramping in the middle of the performance. He makes sure to loosen up his limbs, oiling his joints with constant movement. With his earphones plugged into his ears and his piece playing on the highest volume, he almost misses the moment he’s called in.

“Katsuki Yuuri, please,” the director’s voice rings out, somehow coming out loud and clear in through his muddled thoughts.

He gets up from a stretching position and lets his mind go blank, trusting his body to lead the way. The room is already filled with the other dancers, sweating and flushed from their respective routines, sharp eyes following him until he reaches the middle of the room.

He’s in position before the director motions for the song to start and when it does, he lets himself get lost in the music. Somehow, the live performance of someone playing the song on a piano for him gets him to close his eyes and really enjoy the music, the notes sounding wonderful and flawless to his ears. He lets the music affect him more than the feeling of the scrutinizing eyes watching his every movement, waiting for him to mess up a turn or fall down on a bad leg in an awkward stance.

He doesn’t, and he finishes the routine without a single error. He knows this because he sees it in the look the director gives him.

“I think we have our white swan,” is the only thing Yuuri hears before the blood comes rushing to his face and he feels like passing out from sheer joy.

 

The next day, the director tells him she wants Yuuri to play as both the white swan and the black swan, saying that she wants to open up the season with something special. She tells him that he could be the next big thing, the next big star, _the next premier danseur_. She tells him that she knows he can do it, that she has faith in him and his skills.

She doesn’t tell him that becoming the black swan means he’s required to transition to an alluring version of what he currently is, but he already knows it. He feels it when he first listens to the piece that he’s supposed to present, a different arrangement of the song that he had danced to when he auditioned for the role of the white swan.

No one bothers to tell him that stepping into the role of the black swan would require him to completely step out of his comfort zone, but he knows he should have realized that sooner.

He gives himself some credit for coming to terms with how he’s been thrown out of his element, dealing with it using the only method of coping that he knows; practice. He knows he’s no genius, knows that he wouldn’t be where he is if it weren’t for the long hours spent on training and tedious practicing. What he lacks in natural talent he makes up for with hard work and unadulterated determination.

Still, every now and then he’d find himself questioning the path he’s chosen to take. He questions his decisions whenever he comes home, his exhaustion seeping out from his bones, inadvertently making his mother fuss over his aching feet. He wallows in self-doubt whenever he doesn’t get casted for a major role. He asks himself why he was ever stupid enough to think he’d make it big in the ballet world whenever he’s soaking his overworked body in a tub of lukewarm water in an effort to ease some of the pain and fatigue.

On his good days, he tells himself that he’s good at what he’s doing. On his bad days, he reminds himself that _good_ doesn’t stand a chance against the _best_.

When he starts to feel as if he’s going to lose balance while doing a pirouette, he decides that today would be on his long list of bad days.

“Yuuri,” he hears through the blood rushing to his ears. He notes how the director’s voice takes on a reprimanding tone, a clear indication that he messed up something. “You need to loosen up. You need to seduce us, not just impress us with how good you are.”  

He feels the frustration set it, making him grit his teeth in defeat because _fucking hell_. He wants to tell them that he knows how to loosen up, that he knows how to shut his mind up and let his body take over. He wants to tell them that right now, though,  he’s trying to learn how to seduce someone and he has this feeling that letting his body loose just wouldn’t work well for him because, _fuck it_ , he’s so fucking inexperienced it actually hurts to admit it even to himself.

Of course, none of those thoughts ever make it past his heads and they remain as thoughts, never transforming into spoken words. He merely nods, mumbles an apology, then resumes his initial stance to go over the whole routine from the start. It’s physically and mentally taxing, more so with everyone watching him, but he keeps going. He’s in the middle of doing another pirouette when the door to the studio swings open so suddenly, it makes him lose his balance again.

He almost curses out loud. Standing by the door is a stranger, one with blond hair and intense green eyes to match a surly expression.

“Yuri, how nice of you to join us,” the director calls out. She ignores the death glare that is sent her way and smiles at the newcomer, motioning for him to join her. “Everyone, this is Yuri Plisetsky and he’ll be part of our production.”

Yuuri is nothing but stunned. He barely registers the director’s voice telling him to take a break, his focus intent on Yuri Plisetsky.

“God, this is going to be so confusing,” someone announces just as Yuuri makes his way to the small group that had formed around Yuri. “Let’s call you Yurio! Come on and meet our new baby, Yuuri!”

Yuuri reaches the group and gets a closer look at Yurio, the male’s appearance giving him quite a shock. Yurio is unapologetically beautiful, his looks a mix of boyish youth and feminine features. When he looks (glares) at Yuuri, the latter notes that his eyes are actually an exquisite turquoise color, somewhere in between green and blue, and they’re currently boring holes into Yuuri’s face.

“We don’t need two Yuris in the same company,” is all he gets from Yurio before the boy stalks away from the group.

Someone snickers and wraps an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder. “Wow, a feisty one,” Phichit says, giving him a warm smile. “You’re doing great, by the way.”

Yuuri begs to disagree, but he just smiles in response. No need to tell his only friend in the company about the sleepless nights spent trying to think of a way to improve his dance routine and still failing to deliver something sensual and alluring. Instead, they get into a discussion about a new TV show that Phichit had recently gotten into obsessing over, share a few jokes and rounds of laughter, and then they go back to business.

Yuuri uses his free time to watch Yurio, admiring the way the young male dances with something that Yuuri obviously lacks; allure and natural talent. At one point, their director comes over to his side and tells him to take note of the way the blonde moves.

“He’s only fifteen, you know,” she tells him, nodding to Yurio, making Yuuri feel like his eyes might bulge right out of their sockets. “He still lacks experience, that’s a given, but he dances so well that he makes everything look so effortless. His movements aren’t as well-polished as yours, but give him a few years and he’ll be one of the best danseurs in the world.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t even know why the director would tell him something that would only make him feel worse about himself. When he risks a glance at her, he thinks he gets his answer.

Lilia Baranovskaya smiles at him, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “You can learn from him, Yuuri, and he can certainly learn so much from you.”  

Yuuri doesn’t tell anyone, but he feels like he might crumble from the pressure of knowing that their director has placed so much faith in him.

 

He asks permission to stay behind and practice some more, giving himself a little high five when he gets a very reluctant Lilia to agree. He’s given an hour, just enough time for him to squeeze in a few rounds of practicing the black swan piece, and he wastes not a single second of it. He works on his spins, working on gradually reaching 32 fouettes.

When he deems himself ready for a one final run of the piece, he hears someone clapping their hands, startling him. He whips around to face the person, moving on reflex and half expecting to see Phichit, but his eyes meet with seas of vivid blue.

 “You’re really quite a thing to watch,” the stranger says, fixing Yuuri with a stare. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it, but Yuuri sees the traces of a smile lingering on the stranger’s lips. “Would you like me to play for you?”

“Excuse me?” He’s bewildered, the exertion of continuously working on his spins mingling with the embarrassment from hearing the man’s compliment making the skin on his face flush a deep red.

“On Love: Eros, right?” the man asks, smiling when Yuuri gives him an uncertain nod of his head. “I was there when you auditioned for the white swan with Agape. I was playing for you and, might I say, it was an honor.”

Yuuri thinks he does vaguely remember seeing a silver-haired man talking to the director on the day of the auditions, but he also remembers barely paying attention to anyone, too intent on telling himself no to fuck up the piece.

He also remembers how the music had helped him calm his nerves, helped him focus on his routine, and probably helped him get the role. He stammers out his gratitude, “Thank you, it was a very beautiful piano performance.”

“Oh, please,” the man dismisses, waving his hand as if brushing something away. “You hardly needed me there. The way you dance… it’s like your body’s creating the music.”

If Yuuri had been speechless before, it was nothing compared to how tongue-tied he’s feeling now. He feels his face heat up again, not knowing how to react to the stranger’s encouraging words yet wanting so badly to convey his appreciation.  

“I… wow. Thank you…?” When he sees the look of confusion that briefly dances on the stranger’s expression, he panics, trying to remember if they had already exchanged names and he had just somehow forgotten about it. A rush of relief washes over him when the man smiles and does a little bow.

“Victor Nikiforov, at your service. Would you like to start?” he asks, gesturing to the grand piano. He’s taking his seat before Yuuri can answer, looking up and smiling at him expectedly.

Yuuri feels the world spin back to reality again, its movement even quicker than how he has to be when he performs the fouettes. Suddenly, he’s back to feeling as if one small mistake could unravel into a big mess, a mess that now rests heavily on his shoulders.

He makes a decision then not to let the black clouds of doubt roll over his head again, choosing instead to bask in the soft and warm glow that the silver-haired pianist had unexpectedly brought into the room. After all the compliments he just got from Victor, there’s a small light of hope that delicately burns in his chest, something that drives him into action. He nods his head, marches over to the center of the room, and gets into position.

The first notes of the song play out and Yuuri is immediately reminded of why he had felt so serene while dancing Agape; the pianist makes it so easy for the dancer to feel the raw emotions needed to be seen through his dance. With Agape, Victor had somehow made Yuuri feel like he had been floating on clouds. With this rendition of Eros, he feels the passion that had been lacking from the recorded version of the song, egging him on to show his take on that passion.

Still, it’s not enough. He feels it, knows that the passion he’s showing is subpar compared to the passion that Victor is exuding with the little dance his fingers stitch together using the piano keys. Suddenly, Yuuri finds himself striving to prove something to Victor. In comes the fouettes, and when he turns and his eyes meet intense blue ones, he realizes what he’s missing and what he needs to give to the piece.

A hint of spice, something to heat things up for his audience. He starts to feel the edges of sexual love seeping into him, starting from the point where he establishes eye contact with his audience every split second, spreading ever so slowly throughout his body.  The burn is slow, unhurried in its journey to engulf him, and he wishes for nothing but for it to turn into a blistering fire.

By the end of his performance, he turns to Victor, does his final pose, and gives out a little smirk towards his lone audience.

He gets a low whistle for his efforts. For some reason, the sound stirs something in him that he can’t quite name. He knows his face would be tainted red if he looked at the expansive mirror behind him, but he doesn’t know if it’s entirely due to the exhilaration from dancing.

“It’s not enough,” he suddenly declares, and Victor looks ready to protest. “I know it’s not, but I’m getting there. Please, watch me until I’m able to…” Suddenly, he feels at loss for words, not knowing how to continue with the line of thought that had initially started his outburst. He feels stupid, impulsively asking a complete stranger to watch over him just because he happens to bring out the best in his dancing.

“Seduce me with your _Eros_?” Victor supplies, much to Yuuri’s chagrin. “I can’t wait, Yuuri.”

Despite how inappropriate it sounds, Yuuri nods. He watches as the pianist stands up and walks over to him, a seemingly pensive smile playing on his lips.

“Tell me, have you ever gone to an ice skating rink?” he asks once he reaches Yuuri, his thoughtful smile turning into a playful smirk. “I’ve heard this city has one.”

 

* * *

 

 

For the first time in a while, Yuuri wakes up and doesn’t immediately feel a sense of dread creeping into his gut. He had gone to sleep feeling slightly accomplished and with the knowledge he has something to look forward to tomorrow. He opens his eyes and almost smiles to himself, knowing that he now has a purpose to follow in order to master his black swan piece.

Last night, he and Victor had arranged to go to the local ice skating rink where a friend of Yuuri works, Victor convincing him that it would do him good to try and relax a bit. He had agreed, albeit he couldn’t deny that he had felt that he just had to agree if only to return the favor. After all, Victor Nikiforov had not only unknowingly helped him with his white swan audition piece, the man had also inspired something in him that could finally be that final missing bit needed to complete his black swan piece.

To say that he owes the man would be an understatement, and so although he doesn’t necessarily agree that going out ice skating would do him any good, he’s willing to give it a try. He practically inhales the meal his mother sets out for him, giving her a big kiss on the cheek when she hands over his packed lunch. He’s in a hurry, no doubt about that, practically sprinting out the door and jogging all the way to the studio. He catches himself smiling right before entering the place, careful to school his expression back into something neutral and out of the creepy territory.

He’s one of the first ones in, a few of his colleagues scattered around the studio with some chatting and some already working on warm-ups. He waves to them, thankful that none of them completely ignore him, and then sets out to start warming up. The dancers start arriving in a steady stream and by eight o’clock, the director is calling for them to gather ‘round.

“I’d like to introduce you to someone today,” she begins, a proud smile adorning her face. “I’m sure some of you already met or at least saw him on the day of the auditions, but that had been a temporary thing then. Today, a good friend of mine will be joining our team as our new _maestro_. Please welcome, Victor Nikiforov.”

She shares a knowing smile with Victor who comes forward from his place by the piano to properly greet the dancers. Yuuri doesn’t get the chance to look too much into the exchange because he’s completely distracted by the reaction Victor gets, particularly from the females. They practically swoon at him, a select few brazen enough to ask for a quick picture with the new maestro.

Yuuri thinks he should have expected this. Of course they would find him _handsome_ and _charming_ — he had thought so as well when he first laid his eyes on the man last night, the number of praises pilling up in his head only increasing the longer he stayed in Victor’s company. Now, he can’t help but feel something akin to jealousy knowing that the silver-haired male would be inspiring the other dancers as well.

The fact that this dampens his mood as much as it does has Yuuri rolling his eyes, and when they roll back to the scene in front of him, Victor is looking at him. He sees the coy little smirk that he’s somehow ended up associating with the pianist, accompanied by a raised eyebrow, but he feels someone pulling him away from the group before he has the chance to come up with a response.

Phichit drags him into warming up together, chatting his ear off about the show they had discussed before, and Yuuri welcomes the distraction. He decides that the last thing he needs right now is to pull a rain cloud over his unusually sunny disposition, throwing himself into practice the moment Lilia calls for them to get to working.

They work out the rest of the choreography that day, entering the phase where they finalize the dance movements in preparation for the rehearsals. They spend the rest of the morning in class, working with the studio’s choreographer and going over the techniques.  By lunchtime, almost everyone is too busy memorizing steps and working on their stretches to pay the new pianist any mind, save for a couple of the females.

Yuuri barely pays them attention, finishing his lunch and spending the rest of his break going over the songs that they had practiced. He feels a sense of pride wash over him, now truly appreciating how much the company had thought over the whole thing. He notes how the artistic geniuses behind their team worked their magic to make it so that they mix in new blood to keep things exciting for the viewers while preserving the essence of the original show.

He especially applauds the person behind the decision to switch the songs used for the most iconic white swan and black swan numbers into two very different arrangements of the _In Regards to Love_ piece, effectively giving their rendition a whole new theme to look forward to. Not for the first time since joining the company, he feels thankful to be around a group of individuals oozing with talent and potential.

Also not for the first time since joining the company, he feels terribly average. What his colleagues can master in a day, he needs to go over for a week. The difference in talent between him and the others isn’t as painfully obvious as it had been before, especially now that he’s landed a lead role for such a big season, but it’s still there.

Still, he abides by his self-imposed day of positivity. He starts working on warming up again ten minutes before the call to attention, not once seeing Victor among the people in the studio. He only sees the silver-haired man when rehearsals begin, Victor resuming his place by the piano. At one point, he catches Yuuri staring and sends a wink towards him.

Yuuri feels an odd fluttering in his stomach that he’s quick to dismiss, convincing himself that it’s only because the director and the choreographer would soon want to see his progress with Eros. He mentally prepares for it, ready to keep attacking the piece with vigor until he finally hits the mark.

He hears choreographer telling the other dancers to take a break, his cue to get up and get ready to perform. He risks a glance towards Victor, immediately feeling a surge of confidence at the smile and nod that he gets from the man. He gets into position, getting ready to divert his attention from the dozens of eyes trained on him, choosing to focus on just one pair. He hears the first notes of the song and throws himself into the performance.

He hopes that he’s not the only one who notes the change in his movements, hopes that he’s not just imagining the collective gasp that he hears from his spectators when he nails the dreaded spins. He knows without a doubt that he still has a lot to improve with the routine, but he still hopes that this at least would signal his transition into the daring and sexual black swan.

Throughout his performance, he seeks Victor’s eyes, feelings something warm in his stomach whenever he confirms that the pianist is giving him his undivided attention. Yuuri wants to applaud the male for being able to look at him like that while maintaining the flow of the piano piece, owing it up to Victor’s obvious talent.

The piece ends, and he’s meet with deafening silence. He’s panting, sweat lines tracking down the sides of his face, some of the salty beads getting into his eyes. He blinks, looking at the reaction that he’s earned from Lilia.

The woman’s expression betrays that he’s done it. _It’s not perfect_ , it says, _but you’re getting there._ It’s all he needs to see before he collapses down to his knees into a sweaty mess of limbs. trying to catch his breath. He hears Phichit start a round of applause for him and the others join in, howls of praises echoing from the group.

For the first time since joining the company, he starts to feel as if he truly belongs there.

 

When the day ends, Victor is quick to whisk him away. Yuuri still feels bewildered by the man’s antics, his actions alluding to him being a foreigner to the place. When Yuuri voices out his questions, the man is quick to supply answers.

“I’m from Russia,” he says, confirming Yuuri’s theory about the man’s nationality. “That’s where I met Lilia. Initially, I was just visiting her, but then I somehow ended up playing the piano for you guys during audition day.”

“Do you actually play the piano for a living?” Yuuri blurts out, belatedly realizing that Victor might take it the wrong way. “Not that you’re not good or anything, you’re actually really great. I was just, uh, wondering…?” Even to his ears, the explanation sounds lame and unbelievable.

Victor laughs and throws an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, pulling the shorter male closer. “Thank you, Yuuri. I’m taking a break from work right now, trying to look for something… new. If I were to be completely honest with you, your performance for Agape inspired me to stay here and team up with Lilia to produce the show. You were definitely part of the reason why I’m your new _maestro_.”

The confession throws him off guard, feeling incredibly astounded to find out that he’d gotten a person like Victor to move to Japan and take a break from his professional career just because of Yuuri’s performance. It’s humbling, but it also adds more weight to the pressure he’s been carrying around as of late. He finds himself in his usual state of stammering around for the right words to say.

“I don’t know what to say,” he finally admits, suddenly feeling confined by the arm around his shoulder. He squirms a little, fidgets with the scarf around his neck, and tries to will his shoulders to relax.

“Oh, _zaichonok_ ,” Victor says, the sudden use of Russian sending a pleasant jolt to Yuuri’s gut. “You don’t need words at all; your body sends across everything you need to say, and right now you’re telling me that you’re uncomfortable with this.”

“It’s not that,” Yuuri denies, accentuating it with a shake of his head. “It’s just… you’re telling me you left your career because you were… _inspired_ by my performance, and yet we barely know anything about each other.”

“You’re part of the reason, yes,” the foreigner confirms, letting go of Yuuri in favor of shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. “But I also have other reasons. And, if you’re worried about us being strangers, then tell me everything about you. What kind of things do you do during your free time? What’s in this city? Say… is there a girl you like?”

During the course of his questioning, the pair had somehow stopped walking, now standing mere inches away from each other. Yuuri feels the blush on his face grow warmer and he fears that it might become a permanent thing that he sports around Victor.

He tries to formulate a response, not knowing where to start and which question to answer first, letting his eyes roam just to avoid Victor’s. They settle on the building standing before them, a small hotel that had Yuuri’s stomach quivering.

Victor, apparently sensing his state of distraught, is quick to explain. “Oh, this is where I’m staying! I need to change into comfortable clothes if I want to go skating with you.”

“I hope you remember that I don’t know how to skate,” Yuuri says as they continue walking. From the look that flashes over Victor’s face, the man had completely forgotten.

They enter the building and Victor leads the way to his room, making idle chitchat about how it had been a pain in the ass to find a place where pets were allowed.  Yuuri’s just about to ask him what pet he has when they open the door to Victor’s rented room and a dog jumps up to lick his owner’s face.

Yuuri gets acquainted with the dog, falling in love with the poodle faster than what he thinks is appropriate. He laughs off Victor’s comment about him being closer to _Makkachin_ than to him, reluctantly saying goodbye to the dog once it’s time to leave for the rink.

On the way to the skating rink, the two talk about dogs, realizing that it’s a topic they’re both quite passionate about. Victor’s in the middle of debating with himself whether it’d be a good decision for Yuuri to get a dog like Makkachin when the latter realizes that they’ve arrived at their destination.

“Well,” he starts, his arms gesturing towards the place. “This is Hasetsu’s Ice Castle.”

The foreigner practically drags him inside, startling the person working behind the counter. Yuuko looks up and smiles widely at Yuuri before her eyes flicker over to his companion. Her mouth drops open and she starts to say something but suddenly stops, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow at Victor.

“Yuuri! Wow, never thought I’d see you come here without me having to force you to. Who’s this you brought along?”

“This is Victor, he’s playing the piano for us at the company. Victor, this is Yuuko, a childhood friend of mine.”

The two exchange a few pleasantries and some words about skating before Yuuko lets them choose their skates, leading them to the rink and leaving them to figure out the ropes by themselves afterwards. Victor helps him out with the footwear, going as far as lacing it up for him despite his protests. He feels his nerves start up once the other male beckons for him to step into the rink.

“Here, I’ll hold your hands,” Victor offers, holding out his palms towards Yuuri. Once the brunet’s hands land on top of his, he grasps them tightly. “We’ll go slow, okay?”

And slow they go. Victor barely leaves Yuuri to his own devices, always hovering around even when Yuuri starts to get the hang of it. Much to the dancer’s surprise, he finds himself actually having a blast, laughing whenever he ends up slipping and landing on his butt while trying to skate away from Victor and inevitably failing.

They’re both laughing and slightly out of breath when Yuuri’s calls for a break, skating over to the side and getting off the ice. He’s surprised to see Victor falling behind, staying in the middle of the rink with a thoughtful expression.

“Victor?” he calls out, hoping that he hadn’t done anything wrong to ruin their night. “What’s up?”

“I was just thinking that I want to show you something,” Victor replies, his expression unreadable. “I’m… I’ve always been interested in figure skating and I thought I’d show you this thing that I’ve pieced together.”

Yuuri nods, not knowing what to expect from the Russian. By now, he knows the man could surprise him again and again, pulling out tricks from his sleeve to occasionally give Yuuri the shock of his life.

What he doesn’t expect, though, is to be utterly astonished by the spectacle that is Victor dancing on ice. He moves around the rink effortlessly, skating and sliding around like he’d been born to do it. The man turns into something unrecognizable right before Yuuri’s eyes, something beautiful and breathtaking that has him blinking back unwarranted tears.

When Victor soars up into the air and lands right back down just as gracefully, Yuuri feels an emotion so strong that it knocks the air out from his lungs. The performance continues, the silence filled with the sound of the skates sliding against the ice, and each passing moment just makes the show even better. He feels his heart race whenever Victor jumps, feels his blood thrumming through his veins whenever he lands safely.

By the time the male skids to a stop, his arms crossed over the other in a pose and his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, Yuuri feels too dazed to move. It’s only when Victor makes his way back to him that the brunet snaps out of his daze.

“Well…?” the foreigner prompts, his expression betraying his nerves. “What do you think, Yuuri?”

Yuuri could think of a handful of ways to answer. What does he think? Well, for one, he thinks Victor couldn’t do that if he hadn’t been training his whole life for it. He thinks there’s so much to know about the man, so much that he _wants_ to know. He thinks the performance was absolutely perfect, even without him knowing a thing about figure skating.

He doesn’t know where to start, so he says the first thing that had popped into his mind the moment Victor started dancing.

“I think you were so beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pirouette - an act of spinning on one foot, typically with the raised foot touching the knee of the supporting leg  
> Fouette - a pirouette performed with a circular whipping movement of the raised leg to the side   
> Zaichonok - bunny, as in someone who is cute
> 
> i'm levirens on tumblr pls come talk to me


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